I don’t wear a watch, I find a watch, spy on everybody, scan every wrist. who has the time? I do, stolen, sneakily obtained by immoral means, by bending and turning my head and casually stretching to feign interest in strange black birds whispering outside the windows of monotonous chemistry classes. (when does this end?)
there is a watch in my bag, black and white and numberless, newly changed batteries, tick tock, alone in the silence.
peering into phone screens, (why is your face your wallpaper?) shaky glimpses of restless numbers.
mine, all mine, smuggled across chalk borders in the glaring white light.
fifteen minutes remain.
an unknown amount of time stumbles by, I wait, I wait, I wait.
yawn, stretch, turn, what’s that on the wall? no, above that.
chivalrously pocketed while your eyes are on the wall. (your nails are bright pink beautiful, I cannot look away)
five more minutes.